


The Bartender

by rowofstars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Flirting, Keith is a jerk, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5780323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt fill for an Anon on Tumblr who asked for Bartender AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty self explantory. I might have ideas for more. I don't know if I'll go there.

Gold frowned at the glass in front of him and looked up. “I didn’t order this.”

The brunette behind the bar smiled slightly and shrugged, twisting a rag inside a pint glass. “You looked like a scotch neat kind of man.”

With a grunt, and still scowling, he brought the glass to his lips for a tentative sip, eyeing her over the rim. It was strong but smooth, and expensive. Her smile twisted into a smirk, blue eyes flashing in the low lights as she turned and moved away. He watched her go and took another drink, longer this time, and savored the warming feeling that trailed down his throat. 

From down at the other end of the bar, she threw a look his way as she filled two glasses with a mediocre domestic beer. He met her gaze, raising the glass in an appreciative toast, and she beamed at him.

Gold ignored the odd flutter in his belly and looked to the other end of the room where two blondes were giggling and hanging all over a tall man playing pool. The man’s spikey, bleached hair looked ridiculous. He sighed. The Rabbit Hole was hardly his type of place, but he owned it now, so it was only good business that he pop in to keep an eye on things. It had only been a couple of days since the deal was done and the staff didn’t know yet.

A plate clattered on the bar top, making Gold sit up and back abruptly. The brunette, again, smiled at him over a greasy looking cheeseburger.

“And what is this?” he asked, peering at the food suspiciously. “Did I also look like a burger man?”

She shrugged again. “Shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.”

“Right,” he replied skeptically. The burger did smell good though. He lifted the bun with a finger and looked up in surprise. “Extra pickles?”

She grinned and walked away again, hurrying to the end of the bar where two scruffy looking gentlemen were trying, unsuccessfully, to cajole her into free drinks. After a few minutes, the delicious smell got to him and he dug into the meal, his tie narrowly escaping a blob of mustard. The bartender flitted from patron to patron, taking money and making drinks, smiling at everyone. A few times she glanced his way and rolled her eyes or pulled a face, and more than once Gold caught himself smiling back.

Gold was glad she didn't linger and try to talk to him. He wasn't the type. He didn't talk about his demons to pretty bartenders. Those were for burying at the bottom of a good glass of scotch.

As soon as he thought it, another glass appeared by his right hand, and he watched her pass by with a tray of pink martinis. That was around when he noticed that the fries on his plate had dwindled, and that she was chewing on something as she set the drinks down on a table in the corner. He let out a short laugh and shook his head, pushing the nearly empty plate away and taking a sip of his drink.

The next time she came by he had to remember to ask her name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Anon prompted: One night, Belle’s favorite song comes on and she asks him for a dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from ages ago and I am the worst. ashadeofpemberley prompted me this for the first Rumbelle is Hope and I did not get it done. Well, I was struck with inspiration in the wake of our collective disbelief, anger, and sadness. I hope you’re doing okay, and that this brightens your day a bit. Also this kind of officially makes this a prompt verse, open to what you all may throw at me.

Gold had become something of a regular at the Rabbit Hole since that first night. It wasn’t every night, but at least once a week he could be found sitting at the end of the bar, sipping a scotch neat, and trading jabs with the bartender. 

Belle.

That was her name. He’d finally found that out on his third time in, after he’d hoarded his fries and refused to let her steal another until she told him what it was. She was a lovely, sweet thing, but with a wit that more than matched his own and a glare that would stop a person cold. He’d seen that in action more than once. The first time, she stopped a fight before it started simply by looking at the offender like she was going to set him on fire from across the room. It was all Gold could do not to burst out laughing.

She was not a woman to be trifled with or who suffered fools. He liked that. Perhaps more than he should considering she was technically his employee in a way. He lied regularly and told himself that he only came here because he owned the building and part of the business and it was the responsible thing to do. He checked on all his properties and business interests. He just didn’t quite check on them so often or so - _thoroughly_.

And he certainly didn’t regularly stay until closing, but here he was, end of the bar like always, this time with a soda instead of a scotch. He would watched as Belle picked up the stray glasses and bottles and wiped down the tables. When she came back behind the bar, they would chat a little and she would wash. A few times he caught her humming or quietly singing some tune to herself, but she would stop as soon as she got to the bar. What little he heard was nice though, her voice just as lilting and sweet in song as it was in conversation.

She gave him a strange look when he pushed back on his stool and crossed to the jukebox by the pool tables. It was a far more modern thing than he remembered seeing in his youth. It was all digital now, the vintage casing holding a glorified iPod as it were. It still took quarters though, with the customary clink, and the large buttons were very satisfying to push.

A moment later, Belle stopped and turned with a tray of glasses and a platter of leftover nachos. The song started up and Gold braced himself for some kind of ridicule, but then she smiled and laughed.

“Didn’t peg you for a Bowie fan,” she said, whisking past him as he ambled back to his seat.

He shrugged. “What did you peg me for?”

The question came out before he could stop himself, but when he glanced at her she was looking at him with her head tilted and a thoughtful expression as she scraped off plates into a trash bin.

“Stones maybe, if you’re in a good mood,” she replied. “Mozart or Chopin while you work. Maybe Nick Drake or David Gray if you’re feeling -” she paused and shrugged, her lips pursing before she smiled crookedly. “Sentimental.”

Gold laughed softly. He could deny none of it, though it was unnerving that she had some of his musical tastes figured out. He wondered what else she’d supposed about him. “Well, you’re quite astute, Miss French.”

She tossed him a look over her shoulder as she carried some things back to the kitchen and then came back out through the swinging double doors with a sweeper and dustpan. There was a janitorial service that would come by in the early morning to mop the floors and vacuum the rugs, but the person who closed usually did a once over to clean up the bits of food and stray wads of napkins.

Gold turned on his stool, unreservedly watching her now as he sipped at his soda. She didn’t seem to mind and rarely looked his direction, focused on moving chairs and sweeping out under the tables. A slower song, a ballad of sorts, came on and he caught her smiling softly. The way she moved with the broom became a bit like waltzing with a partner, and he found he was enjoying the sway of her body a little too much.

Straightening, he turned back to the bar and drained the last of his beverage. It was more than late for a weeknight and he really should get home. The song clicked over again, just as he was picking up his overcoat and he paused as the soft sounds of a piano began. He swallowed and just held off a smile.

Behind him, Belle tipped up the last of the chairs, setting it over the table. It was one of those songs she’d say he listened to when he was being _sentimental_ and there was an odd feeling in his chest about that.

He made it only a few steps to the door before he heard her voice.

“Leaving already?” she asked.

Gold stopped with his hand on the door handle, his coat draped over his arm, and nodded. “It’s late.”

Her head tilted to the side again. “It’s always late when you’re here,” she replied. “Come on, I like this song.”

She held out her hand and he frowned until it dawned on him she was inviting him to dance with her.

“I can’t really -” he started, but then she was already somehow right in front of him, taking his coat off his arm. He looked down and lifted his cane, indicating that it was questionable whether or not he could dance, but she seemed undeterred by his physical limitations.

“It’s my favorite,” Belle said softly. “Please?”

Gold nodded, and let her take his hand, leading him onto the open space between the tables and the small raised stage that passed for a dance floor. Her other hand went up to his shoulder, and he took a moment to lean his cane against a table edge before he awkwardly settled his at her waist.

She smiled up at him and after a false start or two they managed a comfortable rhythm and a slow circular turn about the floor. He could feel her muscles shift and move under his hand, the warmth of her as she stood close to him. It was more intimate than he’d been with anyone in years, yet it didn’t unsettle him. He felt a bit honored that she’d asked, and perhaps this meant they were some sort of friends now. He didn’t have many of those.

“See,” she said. “You’re doing just fine.”

Gold cleared his throat and looked over her head, unable to meet her astonishingly blue eyes. “Yes, well. There’s not much to it, I guess is there.”

Belle shook her head, swaying her hair. “And you haven’t even stepped on my foot.”

He laughed quietly at that, and saw her eyes slip closed as the bridge of the song started up and a soft acoustic guitar joined the light strains of piano. The song was familiar, a strange sort of one-sided love song about losing someone, but also hopeful at the same time. It was wholly relatable for most anyone he imagined, but it seemed somehow special for Belle. And now perhaps for him too.

Slowly, as the song came to an end, they kept moving and turning. Her hand had shift to be almost behind his neck, her fingers distracting as they played with the long ends of his hair as she leaned in and all but rested her head on his shoulder. Likewise he had changed to hold her hand to his chest, the silk of his pocket square against the back of her hand. 

After a couple of minutes without any music, he pulled back. “The song’s over.”

His voice was oddly strained, and the small sigh that left her lips pulled at him. When she looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes looked darker than they had before. His throat tightened with the urge to bend his head and brush his lips over hers, the very idea of it shocking him to his core.

There was a slight pressure at the back of his neck just then that cause him to lean in and he realized it was the flexing of her fingers. Abruptly, he let go of her hand and stepped back, picking up his cane. 

“Yes, well,” he muttered, flexing his fingers over the handle. His palm was too warm and the cool metal felt nice. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, rubbing her open palms over her jeans. She turned and started towards the bar, and he followed suit, heading for the door.

He snatched his coat up from where she’d laid it over one of the stools, and put it on as he watched her moving around behind the bar. She seemed to be flitting between things, touching and straightening without really doing anything.

“Good night, Miss French,” he said. When she didn’t look at him or respond, he sighed, and watching a moment longer as she moved back towards the stage, presumably to turn off the lights.

His hand on the door once more, he made to leave only to hear her call out to him.

“Mr. Gold.”

He looked back to see her standing with her arms around her torso, in the middle of the small dance floor. The light from the stage cast her in a spotlight, like a beacon that wanted to draw him back.

“Thanks,” she said, giving him a small shrug and a smile. “For the company.”

He returned her smile and nodded. “Anytime.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by ghostwriter107 and an Anon on Tumblr: Keith is an obnoxious jerk all night, and then tries to follow Belle home, giving Gold an opportunity to come to her rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ghostwriter107 who gave me some great prompts for this verse. I hope this is fluffy enough for everyone in the aftermath of this dumpster fire of a show.

It was several days before Gold visited the bar again, pushing his way into the Rabbit Hole on a blustery Friday evening in early autumn. It was busy as far as places in Storybrooke went, with almost every chair and bar stool occupied. The few people near the door gave him an odd look as he ambled past, but he ignored them. Most everyone knew he was now a part owner and that he sometimes dropped in, but apparently it was still a novelty worth ogling. 

He made his way over to the bar stool at the end of the bar and shrugged his overcoat off, laying it over the empty stool next to him. His eyes scanned the room, noting the familiar faces, and unconsciously searching for Belle. He found her at the far end of the room by the pool tables, delivering a round of drinks.

Laughter followed her as she made her way back to the bar, and one of the men called out something to her. Gold frowned when he saw it was Keith Nottingham. Belle threw a toothy smile over her shoulder, one that looked flat and almost pained to Gold. As she weaved through the tables she caught his gaze and rolled her eyes.

Gold was still frowning when she came behind the bar and set the tray down.

“What was that all about?” he asked, cautiously.

Belle shrugged and picked up a glass, filling it with the best scotch the bar had. “Oh, the usual boys being boys.”

The tone of her voice made him turned and fix Mr. Nottingham with a scowl. The man happened to glance up at just the right time, smirking when he saw Gold. Keith was the lowest of what Storybrooke had to offer. He’d been in and out of jail for petty, pointless crimes since he was fifteen, and was just about as unsavory and dishonest as the character with which he shared a name. Perhaps that had done something to him, all that teasing when he was a boy, but Gold had suffered some of the same because of his father. It was no excuse for not being a respectable person.

Gold sipped his scotch, licking his lips as the warm burn slid down his throat. “Just the thing for a chilly night,” he said. “Thank you, Miss French.”

She smiled at him as she filled a glass with beer. “I think you can call me Belle, don’t you?”

He cleared his throat and met her eyes, the memory of their dance together at the forefront of his mind. Her eyes had been so shining and dark that evening, so beautiful in the low light. He blinked and she was still looking at him, so he nodded briefly. That earned him another smile before she was off, serving more drinks and scribbling down orders for the kitchen.

It wasn’t long before Gold’s attention was called to the pool tables again, as Keith and his crew hooted and hollered. Apparently a bet had been won or lost, which he couldn’t say. It was strictly against policy to gamble outside of the monthly billiards tournaments, but Gold wasn’t about to throw out paying customers. Still, it made him want to keep a closer eye on Nottingham, especially any time Belle was in his vicinity.

He knew it was silly. Belle was a grown woman, and she could handle herself. But Gold also knew how men could be when they drank too much, and when they egged each other on.

* * *

Gold left the bar after an hour, unable to tolerate the crowd and the press of other people into the space he like to reserve for himself at the end of the bar. Belle was busy as well, and while he might have liked to broach the subject of their last encounter, this was clearly not the time. After two glasses of scotch, he decided to go to his shop rather than drive home right away. He made himself some tea and worked on cleaning some jewelry he’d picked up at an auction the previous weekend. 

There was a very simple pearl ring in the lot, a thin, gold band with a bit of filigree around the setting that twisted up on two sides and looked a bit like roses holding the gem in place. It had a lovely, vintage pentina, and he caught himself thinking it was a style Belle might like. He shook his head and then rubbed at the bridge of his nose. It was rubbish to think that and proved he should be getting himself home and to bed.

He remembered too late that he’d left his car at the Rabbit Hole, but the cool air felt nice after being in the stuffy back room of his shop. As he came around the side of the bar at the entrance to the alley, he heard a noise. He stopped and frowned, and then heard a muffled voice.

“Go home, Keith,” came Belle’s voice.

Gold’s jaw tensed, and he tightened his grip on his cane as he started down the alley.

“Come on, baby,” Keith said, following after Belle as she hurried to toss the last trash bag into the dumpster. “You ain’t got nothing better to do tonight.”

Belle snorted and rolled her eyes. “Anyone and anything is better than _you_.” 

At that, Keith grew angry and reached out to grab her arm as she tried to push by him. “You think so, eh?”

Belle cried out as he squeezed her arm hard and yanked her to him. He spun them both and pushed her against the brick wall of the building. She grunted and twisted away from him, but before she could escape, he was in her way, trapping her with the dumpster on one side and the metal of the fire escape on the other. He braced his hands on either side of her head as he pressed his body uncomfortably close. Bile rose in her throat. Keith had always been a jerk, but he’d always seemed like he was all talk.

“Keith,” Belle warned. “This is not funny. Move!”

He chuckled and smiled. “Come on, Belle. I saw you lookin’ at me all night. I know what you want.”

Belle let out an almost scream as she pushed against his chest. He moved a little, but not enough, and his face leaned in, lips puckered for a kiss. She shut her eyes and turned her face away, opening them a second later when she realized he had stopped.

Gold was fuming by the time he reached Belle, and as he took his last step he lifted his cane and stuck the handle between her and Keith right as the man leaned in to force a kiss on her. As luck would have it, he caught things just right and Nottingham’s lips came into contact with the gilded end.

“Hey!” Keith yelled as he stumbled back, and Gold took the opportunity to put his body between them as well.

“Good evening, Mr. Nottingham,” he said. Behind him Belle gasped.

“G-gold,” Keith stammered. “What the -?”

Gold sneered. “I was just passing by and heard a commotion. Imagine my surprise when I find you harassing Miss French.”

“I wasn’t -” he started. “She -”

“She what?” Gold questioned. “She said no, and you thought you’d take it upon yourself to ignore her?”

“No!” Keith insisted.

Keith backed up until he hit the wall on the other side of the alley, and Gold lowered his cane, following after him until he was almost toe to toe with the other man. Though Nottingham had several inches on him, Gold had no problems posturing himself as the one in control. Keith was a worm, a slug beneath his shoe, and for even _thinking_ of touching Belle he’d leave the man a slimy splat on the pavement. Knowing that Keith had actually assaulted her, well, that was a whole other story. Gold would make sure there wasn’t even a stain left for anyone to find.

“Yes,” Gold hissed, baring his teeth. “I heard _and_ saw you, and if you think you’re getting away with it, then -” He lifted his cane and pushed the handle into Keith’s chest, just under his throat.

“Gold, please,” Belle called out behind him. Then a second later she was at his side, looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Let him go.”

Gold looked at her and swallowed. “He’s not getting away with this, Belle. He _hurt_ you.”

“And you can meet me at Sheriff Graham’s office in the morning when I file a report,” she replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. Then she shot a glare at Keith. “But _he’s_ not worth it.”

Gold lowered his cane and exhaled, and Keith smirked.

“You just do whatever the lady says, eh, Gold?”

Gold took a quick step forward and shoved Nottingham against the brick. “Yes,” he said firmly and quietly. “Because unlike you I understand that no means no.”

Keith’s head lolled a bit, and Belle bit her lip to keep from snickering. He must have hit his head when Gold shoved him and she couldn’t find it in her to be the least bit sorry. When Gold finally backed off, Keith sagged and slunk away into the darkness, presumably going back to whatever hole he crawled out of on a daily basis.

Belle finally felt herself relax, and she sighed.

Gold touched her shoulder hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

She looked up at him and nodded as tears welled up against her will.

“Are you sure?” he asked, unconvinced now that she was on the verge of crying. “Because I will follow that _slug_ home and -”

She put her finger over his lips to stop him. “I’m fine,” she insisted, pulling her hand away quickly to wipe at her eyes. “I’m just tired and - and -” She exhaled and shook her head, looking down at the wet pavement of the alley. “He’s not worth it. Really. He was just drunk.”

“That is not an excuse,” Gold insisted, he saw her nod slightly. “And you’re right, _he’s_ not worth it.” Then he swallowed and dipped his head, catching her eyes. “But _you_ are.”

That made Belle look up again, and she smiled, her eyes still bright and damp. “Thanks.”

Then she took a breath and frowned. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you went home?”

Gold shrugged. “I felt a bit -” he waved his hand, “so I went to my shop. When I came out I remembered I left my car here. And it’s a damn good thing I did.”

“Yeah,” Belle sighed. Then she shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Her heart was still pounding a little, and she really just wanted to go home.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked again. “We can go to the police now if you like.”

She smiled. “Thank you, no, I’m fine. I just really want to go home.”

“Let me give you a ride, then,” he offered.

“Oh,” she started, “it’s fine. It’s not far.”

Gold frowned again. “Not far? Please tell me you don’t live in this area.”

She bristled and folded her arms, shivering a bit in the cold. She’d been quite warm when she’d come out of the bar, but now that she’d been outside for a bit and her nerves had settled, her body realized how chilly it was. “What if I do?”

“It’s just -” Gold said, and then he sighed. He saw her shake and slipped off his overcoat, laying it over her shoulders before she could protest. “You’re freezing. Let’s at least go inside.”

She nodded and they made their way down the alley to the side door. Inside, she gave him the coat back, and finished up the last few chores so she could close up the bar.

“Why do you do this?” he asked as she double checked the locks on the front door. “Work here, I mean.

“Why?” she retorted, looking over her shoulder. “Because it’s beneath me?”

Gold sat on his usual stool and sighed again. “Well, yes. I can’t imagine this is what you truly want to do for the rest of your life.”

Belle snapped the deadbolt closed on the door, and walked over to sit next to Gold.

“It’s not,” she said. “But it’s what I’m doing for now. It pays the bills and it’s fun.”

“Fun?” he repeated.

She smiled and leaned back against the bar. “Yeah, when the customers aren’t harassing you.” Then she nudged Gold with her elbow. “Some of them are even nice.”

Gold looked at her sideways, his lips curving slightly. “I don’t think anyone in this town has ever accused me of being nice.”

At that she laughed. “Well, maybe they don’t know you like I do.”

A silence stretched between them, and Belle looked away, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“No, they don’t,” Gold said softly. He rested his hand over hers for a moment, giving it a light squeeze before he pulled back. “Are you sure you’re -”

“Yes!” she said, her head falling back in feigned exasperation. Then she sat up and smiled at him. “I’m fine, and I promise I will go to the sheriff's office first thing tomorrow and file report against that idiot.”

“Good.” Gold nodded. Then he slid off the stool and picked up his coat. “Good night, then, Miss French.”

“Good night, Mr. Gold,” she said, standing and stopping him from leaving by laying her hand over his on his cane. She pushed up on her toes and pressed a quick, light kiss to his check. Her cheeks immediately flushing with embarrassment when he looked at her, stunned. “My hero.”

Even in the cold air of his car, all the way home Gold’s face burned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by ghostwriter107: Belle gets sick and has to leave, so Gold takes over the bartending duties for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for the lovely prompt! This is completely silly. It almost veered into ridiculous territory and I had to pull it back from the edge.

Gold knew something was amiss the second he stepped into the bar.

Things were more disorganized, almost messy. A couple tables near the front hadn’t been bused yet, there were scattered peanut shells to be swept up, and a man at the far end of the bar appeared to be trying to wave down the bartender for a drink to no avail. It was unusual, because if there was one thing he’d noticed about how Belle ran the bar when it was her shift, it was that things were always orderly and everyone was always acknowledged. Even if she couldn’t deliver their drink as timely as they might like on a busy Friday night, she still took their order and they could trust that it would be filled correctly. For things to be this chaotic on a Tuesday meant something had happened.

He frowned and stepped into the low light, his nose wrinkling as someone reeking of cigarettes pushed by him and out the door. His eyes scanned the space, smiling slightly when he found Belle hurrying her way back to the bar from the dart boards. But his smile quickly faded when he saw how her shoulders slumped a bit, her eyes downcast. Her movements once she got to the bar were uncharacteristically sluggish, and she seemed to pause before moving from one task to the next like she couldn’t remember what she was about to do.

Gold’s hand tightened on his cane as he strode forward, an unusual feeling of worry coming over him. Something was wrong, and he needed to know what. But whether that was because there might be something wrong with Belle or because the business of the evening was suffering he didn’t want to say.

“Hey,” she said, flashing him a wane smile before blowing a puff of air up through the lock of hair hanging over her forehead.

“Hey,” he repeated as she fumbled with and nearly broke a pint glass. He frowned again and reached out to put his hand on her arm, steadying it as he took the glass from her fingers and then set it on the bar top. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, but it sounded like she was speaking with a clothes pin on her nose and gravel in her throat.

Gold snorted. “Yes, it sounds like it.”

Belle opened her mouth to protest and ended up bent in half in a coughing fit while Gold watched in horror. When she could finally catch her breath, she looked up sheepishly and then leaned on the bar. “Okay, I feel awful,” she conceded. Then she sighed. “But this place doesn’t run itself so here I am.”

His head titled to the side, eyes softening as he took in the dark circles under her eyes and the redness around her nose. She looked like she hadn’t slept well in a couple of days, if at all, and he’d heard less sickening coughs from two pack a day smokers. The last place she needed to be was on her feet at work.

Gold made a decision and shrugged off his coat, laying it over the stool at the end of the bar. He took off his suit jacket as well and laid it in the same place, then slipped off his cuff links and put them in his pocket.

Belle watched him with confusion. “What are you doing?”

He smiled at her as he came around the end of the bar, already rolling up his sleeves. “Go home,” he said stepping in front of her. 

“What?” She shook her head. “I can’t - I -”

Gold turned to face her, his hands holding her gently by her arms. “Yes, you can, and you need to. You’re dead on your feet here. I can hold down the fort until someone else can come in.”

“But -” she started, and was then immediately cut off by him turning her around and guiding her towards the door.

“I will not take no for an answer, Miss French,” he said, taking her coat from the rack and holding it up for her. “Home and rest, those are your jobs.”

She huffed and slipped her arms into her jacket. “But the bar -”

Gold gave her a stern look as she faced him. “The bar will be fine,” he insisted. “I know how to mix a few drinks and pull beer.”

She gave him an uncertain look, but finally nodded. Then she smiled slightly and sniffled. “Okay, but if I end up without enough cash to pay rent this month, it’ll be your fault.”

She paused with the door open and gave him a concerned look. “Are you _sure_ you’ll be alright by yourself?”

He chuckled lightly glancing around the room. There were only about ten people in the place, a slow night. “It’s a light crowd, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

She started to laugh but ended up in another coughing fit, which made him usher her out the door even faster with further orders to drink some tea.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Three days later, her sinus infection was on the way out, and Belle was feeling infinitely better. She stepped around the end of the bar and went in through the kitchen to the back office with a frown on her face.

The night Gold had spent bartending had been rough. He didn’t know the light crowd was just a slow start because a short while after he’d sent her home, the place was crawling with people settling in to watch Monday Night Football. After an hour of barely keeping his head above water, he’d called in reinforcements. Luckily Ariel hadn’t been doing anything and was more than happy to get in some extra hours.

She’d heard all about it the next day from Ruby. But it also seemed that Gold had not been joking about his drink making skills, and despite it being rather busy, everything had gone well. She imagined his leg had been killing him by the end of the night.

“Ariel, what’s this?” she asked holding out an envelope with about half her month’s rent in it.

Ariel looked up from zipping a bank bag shut and shrugged. “Your tips.”

Belle’s frown deepened. “But -?”

Ariel sighed and tossed the bag in the safe before slamming the heavy door shut. “Gold might have suggested to everyone that it’d be a good idea to leave tips for their favorite bartender.”

Belle laughed. “Is that right?”

Ariel grinned and raised her eyebrows. “Well, it’s not like anyone was going to tell him no.”

Belle could just imagine Gold easing the tip jar that usually had no more than some spare change it it towards every customer. He’d smile slyly, raise an eyebrow, and the patrons would empty their pockets.

“He was really good, you know,” Ariel said. “Behind the bar. He knew how to make _everything_ , and I think at some point people were just ordering weird stuff to see if he knew what it was.”

Belle’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

Ariel shrugged again. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as a _Harvey Wallbanger_. I mean, how ridiculous, right?”

Belle snorted and shook her head. “Maybe I found my new partner for Saturday nights,” she joked, thumbing through the cash in the envelope. There really was almost half her month’s rent here.

“Well, you’ll find out,” Ariel said, standing and breezing out of the office. “Sean and I are going to a concert, and Gold said he’d take my shift in exchange for me helping him out.”

She flashed a smile and Belle watched her go, mouth hanging open. Gold was working with her Saturday night.

_Oh._

Well, at least the tips would be good.


End file.
